After The Blues (3/3) : Part One

[jorgenzen]

Part One
Square-1

A little after five in the afternoon, the day darkens. Dark clouds looming over the area. Jessica leans her elbows on the window sill, blowing and inhaling smoke in the process. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Tiffany still sleeping soundly. She finds herself in the same position a night ago. Or is it two nights ago? She couldn’t remember.

She has lost all sense of time when she is with Tiffany. Then she ticks the cigarette out of the window, and quietly makes her way to a desk stacked with papers. On them, are imprinted with numbers and such. She assumes that they’re transactions on something. When she thinks more about it, her stomach feels a knot forming.

In the living room, the phone rings. Tiffany stirs in her sleep, and moves onto her side. Jessica walks out of bedroom and picks it up.

“Hello?” Jessica greets neutrally. She looks to her left, where the bedroom is located, and hopes that Tiffany has not woken up yet.

“Who is this?” A gruff sounding man is on the other line.

“A friend of Tiffany’s.” Then the phone call cuts off.

Weird.

A sleepy looking Tiffany appears in the doorway of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Jessica has a sudden urge to just kiss her. How could anyone resist that lazy smile Tiffany is giving right now, or the after-sex bed hair? It seems or feels simple right now.

“Who was that?”

“No one.” But Jessica knows better to not be easily swayed by Tiffany’s charms. Charms that hide the complications and a whole of.. shit. She stands her ground and pulls in strength to look away from the direction of love. She grabs her coat and puts it on.
Tiffany notices this. Her eyes grow wider in surprise. “Where are you going?” Her body straightens but she does not move. It is as though Tiffany doesn’t know or care for the implications if they were to continue living inside in this smoked-filled world and never get out to face life. Jessica lets out an audible breath.

She couldn’t look at her. It isn’t that she is afraid of caving in under Tiffany’s looks or dark eyes. It is that she couldn’t look at her own self reflecting off Tiffany’s reaction. “I gave you a choice, Tiffany. I let the fact that it shouldn’t be a choice in the first place, slide past me. But I have given you a choice. One week. I can’t wait forever.” She isn’t sure if she even believes herself. She’ll probably wait to her death if Tiffany asks her to. Her hands slide into the pockets of the coat, and she risks her control by meeting Tiffany’s gaze. She draws her lips into a thin line and maintains her composure. That alone is exhaustive and difficult enough.

Then she continues in a perfectly masked voice that was about to crack several seconds ago, “Because I realized something. I came back to you.” She turns to the front door, opening it halfway. She looks over her shoulder a little. “I came back to you because I love you. Not because I needed you solely. On those late nights when you came crashing into my life, I wonder if you ever came to me purely out of love.”

“Where were you in the months you disappeared? You never once visited me or called me.” She steps outside of the apartment. For the first time, her legs didn’t betray her. Her heart is following dutifully as she plans.

“Wait.” It is a mixed of desperation and hesitation in Tiffany’s request. Jessica takes one last glance at her and mouths “Goodbye”, and then she leaves.

When she gets into the empty elevator, her mask dissolves into silent tears. All she could hear is the white noise of her loneliness, her own ragged-breathing, and the thumping of exhausted heart she wears. She has not slept for over twenty four hours. When Tiffany slept, she stayed awake. Rewinding the images of Tiffany’s being in her head like a broken tape. Tiffany breathing, moving, and unconsciously leaving kisses on Jessica’s arms and shoulders. Her finger ghosts over the marks Tiffany has imprinted on her skin. In other words, Tiffany has scarred Jessica, and tattooed her own name across Jessica’s heart.

Is it sad to expect Tiffany to come running to her and pull her back into the apartment? Unfortunately, Tiffany is nowhere to be seen. Jessica stares at herself in the mirror of the elevator door. When the bruises on her collarbone come to her attention, she frantically tries to rub it off. Washing off the evidence Tiffany has left with her. But it is impossible.

Simply impossible. The elevator has reached ground floor, and she is standing there, unaware of her surroundings. The fear washing over her. The fear of not enabling to love someone else but Tiffany. The fear of not ever getting out of Tiffany. The world feels like it’s going to collapse on her so she backs into the corner, and presses her hands onto the walls to support herself. Her plan backfires as her mind screams to go back. to go back. to go back into Tiffany’s arms.

Her love for Tiffany becomes a storm at sea, ready to swallow her into the darkness. It is so consuming, she feels as though as there is no air in this tiny space. The paranoia settles in her. Her legs buckles, and thankfully, someone who just entered the building sees this and runs to help her.

“Are you alright, miss?” The voice is foreign and unfamiliar in her ears. It isn’t Tiffany’s, Jessica realizes disappointedly. Rough fingers that touch Jessica’s arm doesn’t feel as welcoming as Tiffany’s. Jessica jerks her arm away, confusing the man in front of her. Tears are pushing at the back of her eyes. She can’t stop the rising and the vibration of her sudden anger pulsing through her veins.

“Yes.” Quickly, Jessica gathers herself and holds her coat tighter as though it is the only thing that’s keeping her together. She does not even take a good look at the man or deliver her appreciation for his concern. She walks out as if nothing has happened. A zombie walking on the streets, passing citizens impassively, and rides the tube to go back to Canterbury. On her way back, when no one is looking, she discreetly drinks from the flask she took from Tiffany’s basket.

Drink. Drink. Drink.

And drink down the taste.

And feel the burn against her throat.

And obscuring all her senses and thoughts.

“I still feel you,
the taste of cigarettes.”
- Bloc Party (BECAUSE!)
White light, white walls, blank

She sees her. She has dreamed every second of this. Of meeting her again. To be able to look at her in flesh. To breathe in the same room as her. She could taste it. The blue light dancing on Tiffany’s skin. The bodies that surrounds Tiffany turns to shadows. All she could see is Tiffany. All she could hear is the closing distance of her own steps to Tiffany. Almost there.
The surroundings disintegrates, the ground shifts under her feet. The sound of Kele’s voice shifts into something monstrous. Her heart takes the pace of what she fears of a heart attack. Her mind is spinning, and it feels there were million nails piercing into her brain.

There is no blue light. There is no Tiffany. This is death, she thinks, preparing to swallow her up into nothingness.

Another second feels like another month of waiting, she is jolted into consciousness. Her eyes receiving the harsh white light. Her ears hearing the quick breaths from several people. Her mind too tired to consider what is happening to her. She screams but nothing comes out of her mouth. She moves but there is no difference in distance.  She sees but it is blurry all around. She shuts herself out.

A terrible feeling begins to form in the pit of her stomach. She’s petrified. From there, the event that she thought that had taken place, did not happened. It is a terrible nightmare. It is a punch in the stomach. Too terrible of a feeling, she slowly opens her eyes again, and lights rush in. Her pupils constrict.  A headache forms, and it feels like nails drilling into her skull.

Tears fills her eyes when reality sets in. Her body shivers uncontrollably, trying to hold the fragile pieces of herself together. Or her heart for that matter. It hurts too much. She turns to God for all of it to go away. Pleaded to Him to take away of ‘this’, and of what she remembers the remains of Tiffany. Because, fuck, how deep is she in Tiffany?

Why is it so fucking terrible to be in this kind of love, and yet still manage to obtain such an electrifying feeling when she is near Tiffany? This is not healthy. This cannot be love. This must not be it. It must be the alcohol.

It must be the withdrawal.

A familiar voice pulls her out of her thoughts, “Drink up.” When the haze in her eyes clears, she makes out the person’s profile.

“Yoona?” Jessica’s voice comes out groggy and dry. She tries to sit up but her limbs give in. An IV is injected into her wrist. Her fingers looked bloated. Yoona brings the cup to Jessica’s lips and tip it. Jessica gratefully drinks the water until finish, soothing her croaky throat. “What happened?”

“You fainted. Dehydration, perhaps.” Yoona puts the empty cup back onto the table, taking her time. She faces Jessica with a stoic face. The impassive look Yoona wears disconcerts Jessica. There is a flicker of uneasiness in the air between them.

Guilt forces down Jessica’s throat. Something is off. “Yoona?”

Yoona takes a seat across Jessica, and stares at her steadily for a moment. “When did Tiffany and you start fucking each other behind my back last year?” She asks nonchalantly. Like it is just a question in passing to make a conversation going. “Nevermind.” She waves it off in dismissal.

Jessica bites her tongue from sounding an inappropriate reaction, swallowing the sudden urge to laugh. A humiliation is what she feels. She looks away from Yoona’s too-calm of a stare.

“I’m surprised. To have me listed as your emergency contact. We haven’t been in touch for.. what? Months?” Yoona stands up, walking to Jessica’s bedside. Her fingers fiddling with the blanket and then retrieves the coat from the chair behind her. “I bought this for her, you know.” She laughs a little and holds the coat up to show Jessica. “I don’t blame you, Jess.” Jessica couldn’t help but look at her. Her eyes fleeting between Yoona and the coat.

And all Jessica could think is nothing. Her throat drier than usual. Her bones suddenly tense, and her lips quiver. Hyper aware of Yoona’s physical presence. Guilt hovering in the stifling air they share. She resents Yoona and herself for that.

“But I trusted you to, at least, tell me the truth. Not Tiffany. But you, Jessica.” Yoona emphasizes on the last sentence. Hurt echoing off the words. “I might have turned a blind-eye on your selfishness and your continual participation in the affair.” Yoona’s eyes flick to Jessica’s for a brief moment. “Because I trusted you too much.” She lets out another laugh, igniting nervousness in Jessica. “I’ve even managed to convince myself that it’s probably nothing at all.”

Jessica parts her lips. No words are sounded. She doesn’t even know how to begin. She doesn’t have the right words. Or are there no right words to justify her actions?

“I don’t blame you because I, too, was too much of a fool to not believe otherwise. Considering the state you’re in, I assume you were nursing your broken heart with alcohol.” There is a little hint of satisfaction in the tone Yoona used. “There is only so much humiliation a girl can take, Jessica.” There is a sense of uncertainty in whether Yoona was referring to herself or Jessica.

“I’m sorry.” It is all Jessica could offer (pathetically) in that moment. No other words could take away the pain she caused upon her friend. Nausea is building in her throat. Sweats forming on her forehead. Yoona prepares a bin without Jessica realizing it. Seconds later, Jessica hurls the foul content to her right side, and it continues for another thirty seconds. Exhaustion and distraught do not even begin to describe how Jessica feels right now.

“Anyway.” Yoona’s expression changes quickly, back to her pretty manner self. “I won’t be getting you out of here.” She smiles and places the coat at the foot of the hospital bed. At the door, she pauses and turns to look at Jessica one last time.

“You were never short on truth, Jessica. Remember the time when I had the worst crush for you but you were with Taeyeon? Gosh, it seems like light years away.” She shakes her head at how silly it was. “But I knew better. Strangely, I still do care for you because of that one silly crush.”

“She was mine to lose, Jess. I guess I’ve lost another.”

//

A senior nurse, Ann, comes to visit Jessica. “Darl’, I would probably lecture and reprimand you for missing a week worth of shifts. But you look like you had enough of it.” She says in a sympathetic voice. Jessica suddenly misses her mother.

Before she realizes it, tears are streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, honey.” Ann cradles Jessica in her arms, wipes the tears with her thumb and tells her to rest. “I’ll sort it out with your tutor. It’s going to be fine. Just fine.” Several minutes later, Jessica falls into a much needed slumber.

//

Words are exchanged in whispers. Meandering footsteps are heard. When the sound becomes more audible, Jessica flutters her eyes open and sees Krystal sitting with a look of worry pasted on her face.

“Jessica, you bloody idiot.” Krystal frowns at her and huffs in frustration, and leans back onto the plastic chair. She massages her head. “You had me worried. If mom knows about this, she’ll freak.”

“Hello, sis. I’m alright. Thank you for asking.” Jessica says sarcastically, but her face says otherwise; grateful.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Krystal is riled up all of sudden. “Wait. You’re the foolish one here. Didn’t I tell you that - ” Just as she is about to start her banter, her boyfriend walks in with a welcoming smile. Jessica silently thanks for the interruption.

“Hey, it’s your boyfriend!” Jessica squeals in an unlikely manner, earning a strange look from Krystal.

“Welcome back from the dead.” The new visitor grins boyishly. Instead of Jessica, Krystal bickers with her boyfriend. This is the company she never knew she craved for. A breather. Though it’ll won’t last long, it has managed to forget about the downfall of her relationship with Tiffany and Yoona.

//

A week later

Jessica massages her strained neck. Her eyelids are heavy with sleep. The sore in her legs has worsened ever since she tripped over a wire in the operating room this afternoon. It reminds her of the embarrassment she had in front of surgeons and other snickering nurses. She groans at the memory.

Someone from behind pats her on the back. It is Ann. Warmth radiating from the smile she gives. “Don’t beat yourself over it, kid. Go have your rest.” Jessica does not question Ann’s capability in knowing what Jessica was thinking earlier.

“I could stay.”

“Don’t be silly. Have your Saturday night off. Now, shoo.” Ann waves her off. Jessica couldn’t help but smile at her.

“I’ll get out of your hair soon after I have made sure Mister Ale don’t stray away again to the rooftop.”

A half hour later, when Ann notices that Jessica still hasn’t left the hospital, she pesters her to leave, and bids her goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. Outside the hospital, she sees several other nurses having a cigarette break. The urge to smoke is triggered inside of her. She swallows, and approaches them.

“Can I have one?” Jessica asks even though she has Tiffany’s cigarette pack in the coat. She sees this as opportunity to interact with people around her age. She has been so secluded from social events to the point she does not even how to start a conversation without having to be incredibly nervous.  She has ignored a world that is shared with billions of people because she was too busy being in Tiffany’s world. Somewhere along the way, she realized that she has no friends other than Ann and her sister. Maybe Yoona.

A blonde haired nurse blows smoke away from Jessica, and offers her one silently. “Jessica, right?”

“Yeah.” She accepts the stick, and leans to light with the end of the blondie’s cigarette. Her eyes momentarily meets her eyes, feeling uneasy and excited by this short intimacy. A smile spread across her lips as thank you to her. “Thanks.” She backs and tucks her arm under the other, and gathers smoke in her mouth and blows them out after.

The girl gestures Jessica to come closer. “The others and I are planning to go out for a drink at a bar around the corner. You should join us, and drink ourselves silly.” A worried expression falls on Jessica’s face. She knows how well that ended before. She chews her lower lip in hesitant. “Oh!” The girl suddenly remembers something, looking sorry immediately. “You don’t need to drink. You could just join us.”

Another girl overhears their conversation and places her arm over Jessica’s shoulder. “Yeah, come on, Jessica. Show us that you’re not a snobbish bitch as we like to think you are from afar.” She slaps Jessica in the back, and Jessica bites her tongue to resist the sudden pain. “Get yourself some loving while you’re at it.” The two girls erupt into laughter with full knowledge of who Jessica is kind of with. Rumors do get around quickly here.

Jessica’s face goes pale at what she said. She is stiffened by the remark. But no one noticed. No one will notice the heartbreak underneath the mask she wears so well. Agony fills her like an overflowing water. Nevertheless, she is dragged to the bar with her arm linking with the blondie’s.

Sitting at a roundtable booth, the chitter-chatters of the group adds more to the chaotic sounds in the bar. Music fighting with the yelling of the bartenders, incoherent murmurs to one self, and a whole lot of hustle and bustle from night drinkers. Jessica is squeezed between two of the nurses she has never spoken to before.

The girls converse among themselves, gossip, smoke, and gossip again. Feeling a little left out, she catches sight of a familiar figure sitting at the bar; Yoona. There is no mistaking the slim figure, and a butterfly tattoo (which Jessica accompanied Yoona on one drunken night) on the back of her dimple area. Jessice excuses herself from the group, much to her relief.

Walking up to sit beside Yoona, she pretends to not notice her and shrugs her coat off as she props herself on the stool. “Water, please.” She calls out to the bartender. In the corner of her eyes, she could make out the side-eyeing Yoona is doing. Yoona shakes her head and rolls her eyes. She sips her margarita, trying her best to ignore Jessica.

Jessica observes Yoona intently, hoping to get her attention by getting under her skin. She turns to face the shelves stacked with alcohols and purposely brush her elbow against Yoona’s skin. Immediately, Yoona leans away and glares at Jessica.

Feeling the weight of Yoona’s eyes, Jessica turns to her and smiles briefly. “What?” She asks in an innocent voice.

“You can be a condescending bitch sometimes, Jessica. Just one of your many flaws.” Yoona says with an edge to her tone.

Jessica tilts her head, and despite the received insult, she responds calmly, “You’re no different.”

“What is your point by being here? There are lot of other chairs to sit about.” Yoona narrows her eyes, and finishes off her drink in one swift. She is about to get off but Jessica grabs her by the wrist.
“Wait.” Jessica swallows the non-existent pill down her throat and tries to salvage the friendship. “Can we talk?” Her voice foreign and small.

“I don’t know. Can you?” Yoona says sarcastically. Jessica frowns at her and sighs tiredly. “Fine.” Yoona caves in reluctantly, still wary of Jessica. Out of the blue, a sluggish man hangs his arms, each on Yoona’s and Jessica’s shoulder, and mumbles ‘How about a threesome’. Reflexively, Yoona shoves the drunk man’s heavy arms off which results him falling onto the floor, eliciting a snort by Jessica. “Piss off.” Yoona hisses angrily at the man, who is then escorted out of the bar.

“We should get out of here.”

//

Twenty minutes of shuffling feet and forced-silence between the two, and somewhere along the way, they fall into rhythm of each other’s footsteps and reach Yoona’s flat. Dried and warmed, the two find much need comfort on the sofa, leaving enough space between them.

Yoona takes out a bottle of single malt scotch that has been hiding in the trench coat she was wearing, and Jessica eyes her questioningly. Yoona confesses easily to stealing the alcohol when the bartender attended the drunk out, and adds in a snarky reason, “Alcohol. Then talk.” A half-hearted, half-flaky smile graces her pretty pink lips.

Jessica catches herself wandering on those lips, and feels the pool of guilt building up in the space she gives to Tiffany (or rather Tiffany being the constant occupant that does need to pay rent). Yoona clinks the two glasses in one hand, and places them on the coffee table. Clear tawny coloured liquid pours in to fill the glasses. She drinks it in one go, and hisses at the burn. Jessica licks her lips, resisting the taste of the alcohol and maybe Yoona’s lips.

She should get out and leave. And soak herself in the rain as a punishment for even thinking of kissing Yoona. But she couldn’t deny what Yoona holds has a certain beauty to it. The fluttering of Yoona’s eyelashes as the alcohol disentangles her frustrated mind, has Jessica thankful for the sofa because her legs feels like fragile sticks in that moment.

And what’s bizarre is that Jessica hasn’t touch alcohol since the night she drowned herself in it and own tears of heartbreaks (she’s surprised that she still has the pieces). She’s glad for her own shattered walls and cracked glass-like heart, making her realize maybe Tiffany hasn’t taken it all.

Yoona’s too-thin fabric of a shirt rides up when she stretches her limbs in the air, revealing her navel and flaw free skin. Jessica is caught in waves of sudden desires and rushing paces of her own heart. What is it with tonight that has Jessica slipping into wanting of Yoona’s lips and sex in not-so-appropriate places? Images of Yoona’s hair falling behind as she arches her back, mouth parting to let out senseless moans and whimpers, enters Jessica’s already unforgiving mind.

“I don’t know why I didn’t fall in love with you instead,” Jessica thinks to herself, unaware of the words are actually sounded. A flicker of surprise surges through Yoona’s body upon hearing this. Internal screams of stupidity echoes in Jessica’s mind. Seconds later, to hide or disperse the words into meaningless alphabets, she wraps her fingers around the neck of the bottle and gulps down to numb everything, once again. At least, Jessica can defend the incoming fuckery she is going to put herself into, by blaming on the poor old scotch.

She stops, passes the bottle to Yoona, and waits for the stifled air to clear. Her eyes find intense uncertainty in Yoona’s orbs. She feels bare and hit with not cold for the first time, but delicious heat she never knew she craved for. There is an air of resistance and exploitive unnamed feelings between them. Yoona carefully hides her trembling hands as she places the bottle back onto the table.

Haziness clouds both of their minds. Then, the distance vanishes, desperate hands on foreign skin, and pretty lips falling on quiet ones. Jessica searches and discovers all the wants and pleasures in Yoona’s mouth, in Yoona’s hair where her fingers are tangled in, and in Yoona’s low mumblings of “why didn’t you?” against her lips. The younger girl occupying all Jessica’s senses and rendering her breathless yet wanting more of that. Jessica lets Yoona. Because she can, and she wants to.

Because fuck Tiffany.

Her eager hands undoing the button of Yoona’s jeans, and moves on to stretch and tear Yoona’s shirt. Yoona opens her mouth to protest but instead, she moans when Jessica nips on her neck, sucking on the pulse point. She writhes under Jessica’s weight straddling on her hips. Her eyes train up and down Jessica’s mind-numbing torso when the girl starts to unbutton her own blouse. Locks of hair covering Jessica’s face as she looks down to get the goddamn clothing off her, and Yoona take her hands in hers, pausing her.

Confusion and fear overcomes Jessica when she sees something more, something meaningful in Yoona’s dazed eyes. She gulps down the undeserving feeling. She knows all too well of the look Yoona is giving. She has worn that look. And it hits her with waves of nostalgia.  “Yoona.” It comes out breathy. Before Jessica could say more, Yoona pulls her down and silent her own name that fell so freely and perfectly from Jessica’s lips. Nothing could deter Yoona from wanting this so badly. Not even the probable thoughts Jessica could be having of Tiffany right now.

//

Light seeps through the curtains, waking Jessica up from a restful sleep she hasn’t had for quite a while. Jessica half-opens her eyes, covering them with her hand until the light lessen its glare. Long arms wrap around her waist, the inhaling and exhaling of air behind her, the legs putting weight on hers (don’t even know which ones are hers), dusts particles floating around with sun rays shining through them, she breathes it in all without the heaviness in her chest that anchored her to a place of suffocation.

The simplicity of what she feels now has made the past week’s events sound like a long painful dream. Tick and tock no longer echoes in her ears like the way it did when she was in Tiffany’s bed, fearing for the girl to disappear the next morning. It could be simple. Their love could be simple. But Tiffany is scarred and painted with such complexity and stuffed with discreet pasts that only be seen through the dark silent pools of her eyes. And Jessica was curious enough (or foolish enough) to desperately search for possible treasures in Tiffany. Or in the space between her neck and her shoulder and in the curves of her clavicle. Or somewhere between the alphabets and syllables in Tiffany’s words.

In the end, Jessica comes out short with only empty hearts in her hands. She has scraped through rough grounds, and raised a hope so high for only it to be crushed with just a flick of Tiffany’s fingers. Yet, she still kisses Tiffany’s hands, and cradles them in hers so she could run a finger to trace the lines of Tiffany’s palm. Creating make-wish dreams and hopeful predictions in the end of those lines.

Yoona mumbles something incoherently into Jessica’s hair, and presses subconsciously against the back of Jessica. Her arms circling tighter around Jessica, and Jessica sighs into the warmth of the younger girl. She feels protected yet freeing. With Tiffany, there were walls around her, and it kept her from harm’s way but it is also kept her in a constant fear and isolation. Only now, her mind begins to make sense of her situation clearly.

But what she did the night before, didn’t make things easier for her. She has been clouded with lust and longing for someone who is not Tiffany. Yoona moves and detaches herself from Jessica, and Jessica somewhat feels disappointed at the lost contact. Yoona groans and presses her palm against her forehead.

If headache has a face, it would be pasted with an evil smile. Jessica turns to the other side and sees Yoona cursing the morning. “I’ll get you water and.. Where’s the aspirin?” Hearing Jessica’s voice, Yoona’s eyes screwed shut.

“It’s in the drawer beside you.” Yoona murmurs. Several minutes later, Jessica comes back with a cup in hand and aspirin tablets in the other.

“Sit up.” Jessica dips onto the bed, sitting closely to Yoona. Yoona complies and swallows the aspirin and drinks it down with water.

She glances at Jessica in half-closed eyes. “How come you’re not hammered?” She asks in an accusing voice.

“Tolerance.” Jessica says nonchalantly, and rubs her hand on Yoona’s back in small circles. “Better?” A small smile working its way across Yoona’s features, obviously liking the feeling of Jessica’s hand.

“It would be better if you kissed me.” Yoona says in passing as a joke. She didn’t believe that Jessica would actually consider it. Jessica scoots over to face Yoona and folds her legs, and closes in the distance between her lips and Yoona’s.

The texture of Jessica’s lips smoothed out all the nonsensical and head-throbbing thoughts in her brain. Yoona responds slowly to the kiss, tasting the fresh mint, which then makes her pull away from Jessica. “Did you brush your teeth?” She asks lamely, her eyebrows coming together in confusion.

Jessica looks at Yoona incredulously for a moment, “Force of habit. I just used the Listerine near your sink.” Ever since she started smoking, she has been using the mouth-wash to get rid the cigarette taste religiously. Why go through all that trouble when she could just quit? “I could taste the alcohol on your lips. It almost gave me a buzz.” She smirks, and Yoona shoots her a glare.

The weight of the bed lifted off when Yoona goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she finishes, she leans against the door panel with a towel thrown over her shoulder. “No way. Not in here. How could you smoke that vile thing?” Jessica pauses, the unlit cigarette between her lips, and feels as though she was caught doing something illegal.

Smoking has become such a habit, that she doesn’t even realize fully what she was doing. It has become an involuntarily kind of thing. She licks her dry lips, and puts the stick into the pack. Trying to contain the urge and emotions from rushing out through the pores of her skin. Trying to suppress thoughts of Tiffany from making her feel guilty.

She can’t be thinking that right now. “About last night..” She threads carefully on the subject. Is there really a subject of them to begin with? Fleeting images of Yoona’s stare that is filled with something that she couldn’t possible give, pass through her mind. “We were both kind of drunk. Lost in the moment and..” Her gaze falls on the crumpled bed sheets. Evidences of them together; dipped pillows and sunken areas of mattress..

Silence covers the room for a few seconds. Yoona straightens and nods lightly. “I get it. We didn’t exactly talk.” She says in a serious tone. No more the playfulness that was hinted minutes ago. Their past isn’t lost on Yoona. At least, she has the control to prolong the inevitable. “We’ll talk when we have breakfast in Waterstone’s.” She could see the lines on Jessica’s forehead disappear. She isn’t the only one who is a little relief. “I’ll shower.”

“Wait.” Jessica meets Yoona’s gaze. She bites her lower lip, unsure what she has to say. She does not want to be left alone in the room, allowing her thoughts to come down on her. And her feelings washing her over like a tide, and probably urging her to leave the flat quickly and crawl back pathetically to Tiffany’s arms. She has been resisting since the hospital, and waiting for Tiffany to, at least, visit her.

But there hasn’t been any signs of Tiffany’s raven hair popping up from view of Jessica’s window. The window Tiffany broken a year before. Sometimes, in those moments of waiting by the window, she wonders if Tiffany is at the hospital with her hands cut from glass or bruised from a punch. It is like time never moved, and suddenly, she finds herself drawing curtains in the emergency area, expecting Tiffany to be sitting at the foot of the bed.

Yoona does not deserve this at all. After what Jessica did to her in the past and recent. “Jessica?” Yoona pulling Jessica out of her train of thoughts.

“I’ll join you.”

NEXT